


Watching You, Watching Me

by crewdlydrawn



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, First Time, Hand Jobs, In which Steve is a little bit of a creeper, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, but we all love him anyway, how they got together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 01:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8036950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crewdlydrawn/pseuds/crewdlydrawn
Summary: Of course Steve is always watching Bucky closely, and often for a sketch or drawing, but fresh-out-of-the-shower is different.  Maybe it's time for that conversation...





	Watching You, Watching Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shakari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shakari/gifts).



> Inspired by [this tumblr post](http://alwaysbellamyblake.tumblr.com/post/111909165950/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you) of drabble prompts, and an elaboration on one of [these drabbles](http://www.crewdlydrawn.com/post/150387444714/omg-some-of-these-are-giving-me-such-stucky-feels) from it.

“It’s just, uh,” Steve cleared his throat gently, his eyes aimed down at the page below him, the graphite stilled between his fingers, “it’s just a sketch, is all.”

There should have been nothing unfamiliar about Steve’s pencil poised to paper, his lower lip tucked just-so between his teeth, his eyes nearly unfocused as he concentrated, no matter what lay at the end of his gaze.  Bucky was used to being his subject, even to pausing in the middle of a household task because Steve saw ‘the perfect angle’ and wanted to record it.  Steve’s sketchbooks were full of strangers, certainly, and objects, but there were a significant number of pages that were smattered only with Bucky, or portions of him.

“Just a sketch?”  Brow raised, Bucky squared his shoulders before leaning one against the bathroom door’s frame.  Faucet still dripping to a stop behind him, he had hardly stepped onto the ratty mat shielding his feet from the cold tile, patting himself dry and slipping the towel around his waist, before he noticed.  Steve had been watching him, that out-of-focus look to his eyes, the concentration, his hand poised and flying over the paper in that way that would result in scribbles from anyone else, not the elegant gesture lines Steve swept over the page.

He’d almost been merciful, almost ignored that he’d seen, but maybe, just maybe, it was time.

“Yeah,” Steve smiled, chagrined, certainly, and closed his sketchbook with the pencil inside, reaching to shift his bangs out of his eyes.  That motion was one of a thousand that Bucky found utterly precious.

“Can I see?”

Bucky could almost hear the skip in Steve’s heartbeat.

“You always let me see…”

Too-skinny fingers tightened their grasp on the book, and at the tightness entering Steve’s breath, Bucky had mercy.   Walking over, he sat on the edge of the mattress next to Steve, tilting his torso towards the more slender one beside him, one hand propped behind them.  "Please?”

“Look, Buck…  It’s nothing…”  The book remained closed.

Watching him, those downcast eyes, the hair that hung over his brows no matter how often he swept it away, the little tense jumps to his jaw, that damn stubbornly straight nose, his lips refusing to offer a proper explanation, Bucky dove into it.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, when you think I don’t notice.”  If he hadn’t already been fully aware of the tension in his shoulders, Steve’s breath disappearing probably would have sent Bucky into a panic.  At the moment, it was simply even more endearing, if that were possible.  "Were you drawing me naked?  It’s okay, if you were.”  The latter was quickly added once Steve’s eyes widened as they bored holes in the floor.

“I…” 

“Can I see, Stevie?”

The nickname seemed to do the trick, and Steve slowly opened the book, the pencil sliding towards the bottom of the binding as the page he’d been working on was at last revealed.  In the top corner, a headshot, damp and clearly dripping hair clinging to and obstructing Bucky’s face from view.  Hastily-formed, unfinished, was Bucky in the towel, having no doubt been started right before Bucky had interrupted. 

What took most of the page, however, was just as he’d suspected.  Framed subtly by the door, shaded to account for the single bulb fixed above the small mirror, one foot raised on the lip of the tub as he dried, Bucky’s body was on display on the paper.  With dripping locks tucked behind his ear–they _hadn’t been_ , in reality, he noted silently–Bucky’s arms were reaching down, his shoulders taut, stomach and back bent, and, sending Bucky’s mouth to a smirk as he looked, his dick completely visible from between his legs.

“Pretty sure it’s smaller than that,” he teased, though Steve had actually captured him with a frightening accuracy. 

“BUCK…”  When spoken that way, accusingly, scoldingly, embarrassed and desperate, the shortest version of his nickname always sounded like a curse reverberating over Steve’s lips, and it never failed to bring a bark of laughter from Bucky, even as he apologized.

“I’m just saying, maybe you like what you see.”  Stuttering from his mouth may have tried to argue, but the pink leeching into Steve’s cheeks only confirmed the theory.

Disobedient blond strands fell over those cheeks, and Bucky couldn’t hold it back any longer.  Touching his fingertips gently to the far side of Steve’s face, he leaned in, kissing quickly over his lips, before he lost his nerve.  To his worry, Steve jerked back.

“I’m sorry, I—” he didn’t get to finish explaining how he’d misinterpreted the moment, however, because Steve’s sketch book was closed, set aside, and his body turned all in an instant that led to their lips meeting once again.  And again.  Bucky barely had time to grin before he was pushed backward, his shoulders landing on the mattress as Steve leaned over him.  It felt more like a dream than reality, but the weight of Steve’s legs straddling his own was very real, slight though the pressure was. 

Only a moment’s hesitation preceded Steve pulling his t-shirt up and over his head, setting it aside.  Those cheeks pinked further once Bucky’s fingers ran down his chest, palms to his sides, settling on his thighs. 

“How long, Stevie?”  When Steve cocked his head to the side, brows questioning, he repeated the question.  “How long have you thought about me like this?”

Sandy brows tilted to the center, more uncertainly.  “A year… maybe two.”  Bucky smiled, but Steve poked his side.  “What about you?”

“Uh…”  Bucky took a moment to consider how honest he should be, before realizing the last thing he ever wanted to do was lie to Steve.  “…Puberty?”

The word ‘jerk’ was barely heard before Steve’s mouth had covered Bucky’s again.  This time, it wasn’t cotton that met Bucky’s skin, but Steve’s, warm, barely covering his ribs as it was.  Bucky’s touch stayed light, dancing over the sides of his ribcage, up his back, back down over the bumps of his spine.

“I won’t break.”  Indignation dripped from the words, Steve sitting back up with the complaint evident in his features.

Bucky scoffed.  “I beg to differ, pal, as I seem to remember a certain punk who cracked three ribs last winter just coughing.”  Resting his hands on Steve’s hips, he gave them a light squeeze.  “So excuse me if I’m gentle, okay?”

Lips pursed into a tight line, temporarily forcing some of the flush from his skin, Steve had to concede. 

“ _You_ , however,” Bucky continued, guiding one of Steve’s hands to rest squarely on his stomach, “can do whatever you want to _me_.”

Intrigue was clear as day in Steve’s eyes, and it only took a moment for his fingernails to aim downward, raking along Bucky’s skin as his hand slid towards the edge of the towel.  A gasp opened up Bucky’s lungs, and he only grinned up at Steve when questioning brows rose up under his bangs.  After that, it was both hands, down his sides, pinching little rolls of skin between thumb and forefinger, all the while with Steve’s lips back on his.  It only took a curious pinch to his nipple for a rumbling moan to find its way out of Bucky, his hands cupping over the curve of Steve’s bottom as those bony hips pressed against his, the pressure through the towel increasing.

“We could’ve been doing this the whole time, huh?” he asked with a chuckle once Steve straightened back up.

Ignoring the question, Steve’s fingers lingered over the bunching material under his thighs.  “I want to see you.”

Watching those itchy fingers touch over the fabric, Bucky smiled.  “Like I said; anything you want.”

There was that intrigue again, more earnest this time, and Steve paused with fingers ducking just under the edge of the towel.  “Hands behind your head,” he directed with a decisive nod of his own, waiting. 

Bucky was sure his grin might split his face, and he swiftly obeyed.  “Yes, sir.”  Palms stacked beneath his neck, elbows raised, he gave a cheeky wiggle to his hips, careful not to dump Steve off of them.

Bottom lip draw just slightly inward, Steve slowly tugged the ends of Bucky’s towel to each side, pulling it completely free once Bucky raised his bottom to help.  Gold obstructed his eyes from view, for the most part, but Bucky could easily tell he was staring.  Maybe memorizing, maybe sketching in his head, again, already.  Steve had a way of looking at things so intently that he seemed to lose the rest of the room, but this time, he spoke.

“It was hard, before,” he began, resting his fingers frustratingly close to Bucky’s shaft, “when you were drying off.” 

It was Bucky’s turn to flush.

If anyone ever thought Steven Grant Rogers was _innocent_ , they’d never seen that smirk on his face, before.  “Were you thinking about me in the shower, Buck?”  There was no longer any hesitance in the air, no awkward tension, only an intensity that Bucky could feel over every inch of his skin.  And over Steve’s, as more of it was bared, his pants carefully removed to leave him in full contact with Bucky’s.  Ultimately, he felt the same about Steve as he had moments before, and maybe Steve about him, as well, but Bucky also knew that things between them had just completely changed.

Even teasing, even playful as the question was, Steve’s gaze still felt like it demanded the truth from Bucky.  Swallowing to wet his throat, he gave it.  “Yeah.”  And was rewarded by slender fingers slipping around his cock, the length of it needing hardly any encouragement, by then, to stand tall and firm in their grasp.

“Steve…”  Bucky wanted so badly to reach for him, to draw his shoulders down close, to kiss that pale, pink mouth or the near-translucent skin at his throat, but he’d been ordered to keep his hands tucked away, and it gave him nearly as much of a thrill to control himself, instead. 

As much control as he _could_ keep, with Steve’s hand shifting, rising and falling over the skin of his cock, somehow perfectly pressured to feel like he was touching everywhere at once.  His eyes tried to close, but he forced them to stay open, to watch Steve the way Steve was watching him.  Instinctively, he knew he could get off from that and nothing else, but Steve didn’t stop there.

“Stay just like that,” was all the warning Bucky received before that curious slip of a boy sat further forward on Bucky’s legs, resting his own dick right alongside Bucky’s, smiling fondly as he held them together in his hands. 

If Steve had expected Bucky’s hips to stay still, with that direction, he wasn’t going to get it.  Despite his best efforts, Bucky couldn’t help rocking upward into Steve’s hands, even bracing his feet against the edge of the bed to help keep a measured angle.  Despite his body threatening to become lost to the pleasure, Bucky still kept a careful eye on Steve’s posture, his balance, listened intently to his breathing, keeping relaxed only as long as he was certain Steve was able to fully enjoy it.

Turned out he didn’t have to worry, because as it was, Steve shot off before Bucky did, though he followed shortly after, if nothing else just from the sight of Steve.  Cleaning up not a thought on either of their minds, Steve lay over Bucky, a catch to his breath, tremblings through his frame.  Bucky quickly loosed an arm to wrap it snugly around Steve’s much smaller torso, staying silently connected for several moments before breaking it to speak.

“Hey, Stevie?”

Steve’s smile could be felt against Bucky’s chest, even if he couldn’t see it, and he settled his body more firmly up against Bucky’s, head nestled in the crook of his neck.  “Yeah, Buck?”

“You can draw me naked anytime, pal.”


End file.
